Occlumency: How I Wish it Had Been
by Chise2003
Summary: OotP spoilers from Chapter 28 on. What if Harry apologized? Would Snape accept? (New title suggestions?)
1. Chapter 1

**_Disclaimer:_**_ I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters.  The whole kit-n-kaboodle belongs to the ever-talented J.K. Rowling! I'm just a mere fan (and a poor one at that ^_^;) putting some thoughts/dreams into words. This disclaimer applies to this chapter and all chapters therein of this fan-fiction. Thank you!_

Chapter 1

"Funny, the way people's minds work, isn't it?  Professor Snape couldn't bear being in your fathers debt."

            Harry sat in the Gryffindor common room, silently scratching on a parchment scrap, hearing Dumbledore's words from years before replay in his mind.  Burning with guilt, he sighed and corked his ink jar.  "I can't concentrate on this tonight," he muttered under his breath.  He crumpled up the piece of paper and slammed his Potions book shut.  

            "Blimey!  You're finished already?  I can't make heads or tails of this stupid assignment!" Ron growled through his teeth.  "I can't even balance Quidditch practice alone, and now this?  It's too bloody hard!"  He tugged the arm of his ever-snug pajamas down, taking a mental note to ask for a new pair next Christmas.  

            Harry glanced up at the clock.  It was only midnight, though he felt like his body had been running for days.  He glanced over at Hermione, who was deeply reading her Arithmancy book on the couch.  

She absentmindedly kicked off her slippers, stretching out her toes.  She lifted an arm up behind her head, scratched the back of her neck, and settled back down into silence, sighing softly.  Harry wished he had her concentration and drive, now more than ever.

Ron and Hermione had changed into their pajamas around nine, but Harry hadn't bothered.  He figured the softness would only make him fall asleep faster.  Why had he let Hermione talk him into making his Friday evening a study night?  They had been working since dinner….

He stood up and stretched, yawning deeply.  Realizing he had ignored Ron's question, he said, "I'm not done, no.  I'll try and come up with something better tomorrow.  Snape's made it pretty clear I'm going to fail Potions anyway, so what does it matter?"  Even speaking Snape's name alone made his stomach cringe.  He felt the never-ending frustration roll over his insides, his temper sparked once more.

            Finally setting her book down, Hermione narrowed her eyes and said, "Do you really want to fail your O.W.L.S, Harry?  What if you have to repeat your fifth year?  I don't want to be stuck with Ron by myself, you know!"  She ducked her head as Ron threw his Potions book at her and scowled.

            Harry shot a pierced look at her, picked up his bag, and made off for the staircase.  His tolerance was extremely low, his brain pulsating against the sides of his head.  It was best to leave before he said something he'd regret in the morning.  Had this been a good day, he would have simply tossed her constant nagging aside.  Climbing the staircase, he wondered when his last "good day" had been.    

            He turned left at the foot of the stairs and silently fumed.  He slammed his fist against the wall, breathing heavy.  Gritting his teeth, he punched it yet again, sliding down to the floor.  His knuckles were lightly grazed with blood, scratched by the stone's textured surface, but Harry couldn't feel the pain.  He half-wanted to go back downstairs and apologize to Hermione and Ron for his behavior, but the other half just wanted to be alone.  Explaining his situation to his best friends was the last thing he wanted to do.  

Closing his eyes tight, he swallowed the anger once more.  Cupping his bruised hand, he leaned his head back and sighed softly.  He sat there for several minutes, breathing rhythmically, caressing his fist.  He needed to get a grip, but how?

            His eyes peered into his shared dorm.  He could hear Neville snoring softly from inside, and could only assume Seamus and Dean were doing the same.  Harry stood up and silently made his way over to his own four-poster, running a hand through his untidy black hair.

He pulled his clothes off, letting them fall to the floor with a rustled, heavy sound.  He reached for his school trunk and fumbled for a pair of thin pants to sleep in.  It was still spring, though outside it felt like mid-summer.  He crawled into bed and laid only a sheet over himself.  He set his glasses on the nightstand and sighed once again.  Since when had things become this difficult?  Was this merely a part of "growing up"?  Why didn't his friends seem to have the same burdens as he?  

            He closed his eyes, tracing his constant-burning scar with his fingers.  His stomach rolled over again.  Occlumency lessons.  How could he look Snape in the face again?  Dumbledore said it was vital to keep practicing, but even _he_ wouldn't give Harry the time of day.  Since the trial at the Ministry, Dumbledore wouldn't even look him in the eye.  Was he disappointed in him?  Maybe even Dumbledore had begun to think Harry was lying about his last encounter with Voldemort?  _No,_ he thought sternly.  _No, just stop it, Harry._

            Harry's insides burned with jealousy and rage.  He needed to shut it out, but it was all too much.  He kicked out of bed and put his glasses back on.  He was half-tempted to storm straight out of Hogwarts and back to Privet Drive.  Even the Dursleys' antics would be better than this.  

            He crawled up onto the windowsill next to his bed and stared out into the night sky.  For the first time since he arrived at Hogwarts, he felt truly…alone.  He wrapped his arms around his legs and pressed his face down into his knees, letting out a long growl of frustration.

            Why did he feel so guilty?  Snape had done so many cruel, dishonest, downright _degrading_ things to Harry over the years at Hogwarts.  But…why did Snape also _save_ him from falling off his broomstick during the Quidditch game in his first year?  Dumbledore had said it was simply so Snape felt he didn't "owe" Harry's father anything for saving his life, but that wasn't good enough for Harry.  Not now, not after everything.  Not after . . .  

            "Harry?"  The whisper jerked back to reality with a jump.  It was Ron, tiptoeing toward him.  "Hedwig brought you a letter."  Smiling, Ron's eyes had that same concerned look as they always did, which made Harry's stomach sink even lower.  They were the same sad eyes that Mrs. Weasley carried around him since last summer, since Cedric's death.  Cedric.  Harry could see his still, lifeless form everywhere.  The wide-eyed look he gave before falling under Wormtail's Avada Kedavra curse.  Harry couldn't take it anymore!  The pain was too great, almost too much…

            "Oh?  Why didn't she come up here then?" Harry snapped, unable to help himself.  He knew snapping at his friend would get him nowhere, but at the same time he couldn't stop.  Neville snorted and rolled over, falling deeply into sleep once again.  Harry glanced around the room and saw everyone was still asleep.

            "Er—I'm not sure," Ron replied, trying to keep his smile, though obviously frustrated.  He had black ink splattered over his face and neck, leaving Harry only to assume it was Hermione's payback for being hit with a book.  "She wouldn't let me take it from her leg, so she's down there with Hermione."

            "Right.  Sorry," Harry mumbled.  He followed Ron back down to the common room where Hermione sat sprawled out on the bigger couch, petting Hedwig lovingly.  Somehow, he felt quite unimpressed with his owl.  How hard could it have been to just bring the letter to his room?  Maybe Hedwig sensed he should be with his friends and not alone, for once, but that didn't stop Harry from still being annoyed.

            Hermione was staring at him by the time he slumped down beside her.  "Shouldn't you put a little more on, Harry?"  Her cheeks flushed with a bright pink as she shifted her gaze to the lit fireplace.

Harry raised an eyebrow at her, shrugging his shoulders.  He then realized she was talking about his thin pants.  Rolling his eyes, he said, "And we've known each other…_how_ long?  Five years?"  Though only fifteen, and still very skinny for his age, his chest and shoulders had become considerably broader than the year before—a sign of real manhood on its way.  To Harry, though, it was unnoticeable.  

Hermione said nothing, but instead looked over at Ron.  Harry noticed she was trying to say something to him with her eyes, but Ron just shrugged, his mouth pressed thin.  He, too, focused his gaze elsewhere.  

Harry scowled at them and said to Hedwig, "Where's my letter, then, since you're too lazy to fly up and give it to me yourself?"  Hedwig hooted contentedly, ruffling her feathers under Hermione's caresses.  She simply closed her eyes and kicked a leg out for Harry, not even bothering to move from the couch.  If he didn't know better, Harry would assume she hadn't even noticed his presence in the room. He snatched the small note from her foot, untying it roughly.  Perhaps he _wasn't _paying as much attention to her as he should, but still . . .this? 

            Harry half-debated on asking why his friends were acting so odd, but realized he was too tired to have another outburst.  He unwrapped the crinkled parchment, hoping it was a letter from Sirius.  He was missing him more and more every day.  One of the few hopes he had left would be to spend even a week of his summer holiday with his godfather.  

However, in thick, black ink read:

                        **_Potter,_**

****

                        I demand a meeting in my office tomorrow evening, promptly following dinner.

****

**_                                                                                    Professor Severus Snape_**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

            Harry's breathing seemed to cut off as he scanned the words, though his expression remained untouched.  His mind was blank, his hands trembling.  He ripped the parchment up, crumpling the pieces in his fist.  He paused for a brief moment, scanning his brain for an acceptable excuse.  "Just a note from Sirius," he laughed erratically as Ron and Hermione stared.  He could feel their eyes burning straight through him, stabbing painfully at his chest.  Still shaking, he accidentally scattered the parchment fragments on the floor.

            Hermione suddenly stopped petting Hedwig and noticed the small beads of sweat forming in between Harry's bare chest.  Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as he scrambled to dispose of the note.  Scanning the floor, the words "Professor" and "meeting" jumped out before they, too, were quickly snatched from view.  She couldn't help but feel a little letdown that she had been lied to.  She had half-hoped it truly was a letter from Sirius, for she and Ron knew Harry really needed him right now.

            Tossing her thoughts aside, she said, "Oh?  How is he doing, then?  Well, I hope?"  She started debating on whether to call his bluff or not.  She quickly glanced over at Ron for help, but he was already uncomfortably shifting around.  He never could deal well with a problem involving emotions, unfortunately.

            Throwing the now indecipherable letter into the fireplace, Harry slumped into the nearest chair and heaved a sigh, rubbing his scar thoughtfully.  He wasn't used to nearly falling apart so easily.  Leaving the Dursleys' sheltered (though miserable) lifestyle had been a big change over the years, but Harry had taken most of it in stride.  With this year however, it became more difficult to keep a straight head about him.  Too many things were flying at him at once; he knew he was an emotional time bomb ready to be lit by the first unsuspecting person.  

            Closing his eyes, he thought of Sirius, wondering when he could see his godfather's face again.  "He's doing good.  A bit stir-crazy as usual, but well," Harry lied, wishing the numbness would leave his knees.  He had to go face Snape once again, alone, in that dark, dingy dungeon.  His thoughts racing, he rubbed his bruised arm, remembering Snape's terrifying grip, his bared teeth…there was no escaping him.  Not this time.  

            Hermione couldn't help but frown, realizing Harry didn't plan to willingly tell her and Ron his real dilemma.  Worry started gnawing at her insides, and she made her decision.  Speaking softly, she said, "Harry, it wasn't really Sirius, was it?  Ever since Umbridge caught him in the fire he hasn't dared contacting you in the least.  I'm not stupid."  

            Ron spoke up for the first time in minutes and said, "You're not yourself lately, Harry, and it's scaring me."  He paused for a moment, biting his lip.  "You barely eat, you toss and turn all night long…Harry, this has to be more than the O.W.L.S. and all the changes in school.  It has to be."  

            "Wow, brilliant observation, Ron," Harry muttered, rolling his eyes.  "It's really easy for you to say though, isn't it?  It's easy to point the finger and assume, surely!  It must be nice for you, only having to worry about the O.W.L.S. and Quidditch practice!!  I wish that were the case for me!  Don't pretend to act like you know, because you don't!" Harry's voice had become low and defensive, anger coursing through his veins once again.

            Ron's mouth gaped open, completely lost for words.  He looked over to Hermione, pleading with his eyes for help, but she just stared back at him.  

The silence was deafening.  The snaps and cracks in the fireplace sounded like rockets and fireworks being set off under close-range.  Ron, still trying to find his voice, finally whispered, "If you'd tell us what's going on, we could help—"

            "NO ONE CAN HELP ME WITH THIS!  DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND?!  IF I HAD WANTED HELP I WOULD HAVE ASKED IN THE FIRST PLACE!!  JUST BUTT OUT ALREADY!!" Harry yelled.  "JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!"  He couldn't decide if this was really how he felt or not.  Everything was consuming him, eating him to the bone.  He couldn't stop himself even if he wanted to.  

            Hermione bit her lip and stood up from the couch.  She calmly went over to Harry, leaned down in front of his chair and said in a quivering voice, "We're not leaving you, Harry.  There's always been a way out of things for us.  We've always—"

            "I don't want your help.  Don't you get it, Hermione?  I'm so sick of…you can't always pull the answers from a book!  Textbooks and quizzes will only get you so far in life," Harry murmured, quite callously, as though he thoroughly enjoyed it.

            Hermione's once-caring expression transformed to a mixture of anger and shock.  She glared at Harry, who slipped his face down in his hands.  She had always been patient with Harry's outbursts, but this was too much.  He had crossed the line of being "upset" to being downright hurtful.  Grasping a handful of his thick, jet-black hair, she ripped his head up, getting full view of his face.  Her jaw clenched, she drew her arm back and struck him.  Not once, not twice, but three times, straight across the face.

            Ron felt as though he had seen it all in slow motion.  Before he even realized it, he had pulled Hermione away from Harry, holding her tightly in place.  Her body shook beneath him as she tried in vain to keep what little composure she had left.

            Harry's eyes were wide, staring at the floor…mouth slightly opened.  _What's…happened?_ he thought.  His scalp was tingling, his cheeks burning.  Hot tears rimming the lids of his eyes, Harry brought his gaze back up to Hermione.

            "Don't take your problems out on us!!" Hermione cried, tears sliding down her face.  "Not after all we've done!!  Not after all we've been through!"

            "She's right, Harry.  You can't push us away and expect us to be okay with it.  We've been through too much.  Whatever it is, we'll help you through it, I promise," Ron said, still holding onto Hermione as if any movement in the room might cause another outburst.  

Hermione gently pulled away from Ron and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her robes.  "I'm sorry, Harry.  I know I shouldn't have slapped you, I just…."

            Harry said nothing, but stared at his feet, his vision blurry.  Swallowing his hurt pride (and pushing back his non-shed tears), he slowly croaked, "I'm sorry, I just… it's just… it's not easy right now."

            "We know that," Ron said softly, the knot in his stomach loosening.  Feeling it safe now, he took a seat beside Harry, and Hermione kneeled on the floor in front of them.

            "Oh, Harry…I couldn't even begin to deal with what you have this past year.  I'm not nearly as strong as you are," Hermione added sadly.  "If I could—if _we_ could—take some of it away, we would.  Please, believe us Harry."

            "I quit Occlumency," Harry rushed out.  Saying those words brought another wave of tears to the rims of his eyes, and he swallowed hard.  He couldn't help but feel the disappointment around him, everywhere…one after another, it seemed.

            "Why?!" the two exclaimed together.

            "It's just too hard," Harry said quietly, and it wasn't exactly a lie.  Having someone you loathe poke through your mind, viewing your most private memories…

            "There's obviously more to it than that," Hermione replied.  "I've never seen you intimidated by Snape before.  We've all been a little scared of him, but never truly intimidated.  Not like this."

            "I'm not intimidated," he said, his face reddening.  "That greasy git does _not _intimidate me."  Harry felt all the anger and guilt rushing back, overpowering his insides.  "I 'quit' because Snape threw me out!"  He didn't even feel there _was_ a word to describe it all.  Guilt and anger, topped with a sad realization, combined with loneliness and letdown, how could it be defined as one emotion?

            Ron's mouth dropped open slightly, eyes as wide as galleons.  "Bloody hell, Harry!  What did you _do_?!  I know you two don't exactly like each other, but I thought these lessons were really important?"

            "So is pride," Harry sighed, "and I think I ruined his."  He knowingly forgot to mention his own ego had been slashed considerably, as well.

            Hermione raised an eyebrow very curiously and said, "How did you manage that?  I really doubt Sna—"

            "I was poking around where I shouldn't have been, as usual," Harry cut in.  "Snape caught me looking through some things and said he'd had enough."

            Ron's lips were spread in an evil grin.  He hadn't noticed Harry's comfort level had significantly dropped with his last statement.  "Come on, it must have been really good!  I wish I had been there to see it!"

            Hermione had, however, seen Harry's expression of shame change to near pain.  Biting her lip she quickly said, "How about we finish this tomorrow?  It's really late, and we still have a lot of studying to do."

            Ron scowled at her.  "Hermione, first you tell Harry he should talk to us more, and now that he is, you'd rather go to sleep?"

            "Don't be so thick!" she scolded.  "Ron, it's not easy for Harry, just look at him!!"  She couldn't believe how ignorant he could be at times, especially dealing with feelings.  Soon, she and Ron were into another full-fledged argument.

            Harry sighed, tuning out their fighting, and sat down at a table with Hedwig.  He ran his hand over the top of her head gently, moving down to her tail feathers.  "I'm sorry I've been ignoring you lately.  I need to get my head out of my ass, don't I?"

            She nipped his finger roughly, but not so that Harry didn't know she still cared.  She pressed her head against his chest as he kissed her forehead and apologized again.

            "If you come to the Great Hall for breakfast tomorrow I promise to give you all the toast you want," he whispered as Ron smacked Hermione with one of the couch's heavy pillows.  "You know what scares me, Hedwig?"

She hooted softly, coaxing him to continue.  Hedwig knew all his secrets…all the things he couldn't tell Ron and Hermione, as much as he loved them.  She had always been there to talk to Harry, even if the rest of the world was gone.  Though Harry had shunned her off as of late, even an owl knows people make mistakes and need forgiveness.    

"I'm scared because everything I've held true about my father was a lie.  I could always look up to my father, even though he's dead.  Even though he's dead, I was told he was such a great man and one to be proud of, but I…."

            His voice had grown so soft he could no longer use it.  His eyes were aching to release their long-held tears.  He swallowed hard, his hand never leaving Hedwig, who still had her head buried into his chest.  He glanced over at his friends again.  They were still yelling at each other, but Harry didn't have the energy to focus on their words.  The right corner of his mouth turned upward slightly as Hermione knocked Ron to the floor and did a victory pose.

Their bickering stopped abruptly, though, upon seeing Harry's expression.  His eyes had grown red and glazed over, his eyebrows furrowed.  They both rushed over to the tablet, eyes focused on their disheartened friend.

"Oh, Harry…" Hermione whispered, hesitating a moment before putting her arms around his shoulders.  "It's okay…"

Harry's loneliness seemed to rush back into the core of his heart.  When had he last been hugged?  Was it when Mrs. Weasley held him after Cedric's passing?  It seemed just like yesterday.  Why was time passing so slowly?  Shutting his eyes tightly he graciously accepted Hermione's embrace, trying to block out the pain once again. 

            Ron's feet were shifting uncomfortably.  "Er—let's go outside.  I'll go get the invisibility cloak and we'll go get some fresh air.  It'll get your mind off of things, Harry!"  He darted off for the dormitories to find Harry's trunk.  Grabbing the shiny, silky cloak he tiptoed back out of the room and made his way back to the common room.  "Here… Just for tonight, we'll do our own thing," he smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Author's Note:_**_  I apologize for the long wait.  I've been rundown with bronchitis and such, but updates will be more frequent!  (Er...those that are still with me, that is.)  Anywhoo…I've edited Chapters 1 & 2, mainly adding a bit of length.  Please re-read if you wish.  ^_^_

_I also have a favor to ask.  Those of you who upload chapters frequently…I was wondering if you could e-mail me at chise2003@fanfiction.net with tips on uploading?  I've tried a few things, but my chapters won't italicize/bold/indent when I've had it perfect on Microsoft Word.  Suggestions?  Anything is very much appreciated!  ^_^;;_

Chapter 3

"We always do our own thing, though," Hermione winked as Ron held up the cloak.  "Go take a peek and see if the hall is clear.  I don't know who's on duty tonight, but I'd rather not meet Umbridge if I can help it."

Ron crawled through the portrait hole and creaked it open, casually peering left and right, up and down.  "It's clear for now," he called back.  "Hurry up so we can get the cloak on before someone comes!"

Harry and Hermione obeyed, and soon they were all under the wrap, albeit a bit snugly.  Somehow the cloak just didn't fit as well as it had when they were eleven.  Harry wondered for a moment if he could possibly find another.  How else would all three sneak around after hours?  Maybe he'd ask Moody…or Mundungus.  He had a knack for finding rare items, even if he was a cheat.

Slowly creeping through the castle, they made their way to the Entrance Hall.  They stopped and leaned against the side of the wall, listening for noises.  They could hear a faint muttering combined with the sloshing of water.  "Filch," Hermione hissed.  "He's mopping the floors at this hour?"

"Probably wants to score even more points with Umbridge," Ron muttered under his breath.  He stepped back suddenly, inadvertently smashing Hermione's toes in the process.  She let out a muffled groan, and Harry, still stuck in his own musing, bumped into their backs.  All three took a loud and painful crash to the floor. 

"Who's there?" bellowed Filch.  After hearing nothing, he growled, "I know you're out there."

Wordlessly, Harry grabbed Ron and Hermione by the arms as he heard Filch's footsteps pounding up the stone staircase.  Panicking, he snatched his cloak from the floor and wrapped it around them hurriedly.  All three threw their backs against the wall, hands clasped over their mouths.

Filch appeared, Mrs. Norris nearby.  "Well, my sweet.  Seems as though we have some work to do," he cooed.  Harry couldn't help but feel Mrs. Norris' eyes burning straight through him.  Filch slowly walked down the hall, arms outstretched for any sign of movement.

Mrs. Norris meowed loudly, sitting directly in front of Hermione.  Harry wanted nothing more than to kick her out of the way, but remained motionless, barely breathing.  Just as Filch brought his eyes in direct contact with Harry's, his arm outstretching again, fingers ever close to coming in contact with Harry's nose, there was a loud crash where he had been mopping.

"What the hell?" Filch growled, storming back down the corridor.  "PEEVES!"

Peeves cackled and flew back up the stairs and down the hall opposite Harry, Ron, and Hermione.  Filch followed, swearing loudly, and after one last glaring hiss, Mrs. Norris followed her master obediently.  

"That…was close," Hermione whispered, her heart still beating frantically.  "I don't know about you two, but I'd rather not run into Filch again.  Hurry up!"

They ran down the steps, extra careful not to bump into each other again, and made their way outside virtually unnoticed.  They stumbled down the walkway onto the green grass, hiding in the shadows.  

  "I really thought Filch was going to get us for a minute!" Ron laughed, pulling the cloak off, spreading his arms out wide.  Hermione couldn't help but smile as well, though her chest was till uncomfortably tight.  She didn't like, nor approve, of sneaking around nights, but right now she wanted what was best for Harry.

            "Ron, not so loud!  Where do you want to go then, Harry?" she asked.  She saw him glancing over at the lake.  "How about the lake?"

            "Yeah, sure.  Whatever you guys want," he replied, staring through the darkness to the water.  Had his father really tormented Snape at that very spot?  Running his bare feet across the grass, he tried to envision it.  He tried to picture himself as James Potter, tormenting a much-younger Snape out of sheer boredom.  He just couldn't imagine it.  Yet, he saw it with his own eyes.  Rather, Snape's eyes, but a memory is a memory…

            He threw himself backward onto the grass and spread his arms out, Ron and Hermione following moments after. Staring up at the star-studded sky, Harry absentmindedly asked, "What time do you suppose it is by now?"

            "I'm not sure," said Ron, his arms up over his head.

            "I'd say three or so, but I'm not really sure, either," Hermione replied, her eyes searching out constellations she had once read about in Muggle astronomy books.  She had always found them fascinating.  "Have you guys studied constellations yet?"

            "Firenze told us a bit about them.  I must say, though, he's much better than Trelawney.  At least I don't have to hear her predict Harry's untimely death anymore!" Ron grinned.  Pointing up at the dark sky, he continued, "That's…uh…Harry?  What is that?"

            "Dammit, I forgot to do my Divination homework!" Harry groaned.  "I had worried so much over that stupid Potions essay that I didn't think twice about anything else.  Er, come to think of it…I don't have my Potions work done either, do I?"

"I'll help you tomorrow.  We'll come up with something," Hermione assured, her face gently lit up by the moonlight.

The three remained on the grass for what seemed an hour, just enjoying the silence.  They had huddled up, Harry in the middle, Ron on the left, and Hermione to the right, arms over their heads.  Through their five years together at Hogwarts, they had never felt so joined together.  Something about the situation, the closeness that had come over them…Harry realized he was foolish for not coming to them sooner.  They _had_ always been there for him; he was just too stubborn and full of pride to ask for help.

"Harry?" Hermione said softly, finally breaking the silence.  She turned her head to look at him.

"Yeah?" he replied, his eyes closed underneath his glasses.

"Did Snape…did he…well, I mean…what did he say?"

"He told me to leave his office and never come back."

"Can I ask why?"  She and Ron had turned to their sides, facing Harry intently.

"As I said in the common room, I had been poking around where I shouldn't have been…"

Ron, who had obviously been trying to piece things together since that evening, thoughtfully said, "Did you enter his mind or something?"

"Not exactly," Harry replied, frowning a bit.  "He put a few important memories into Dumbledore's Pensieve that he obviously didn't want me to see, and, well…he had to leave for a minute with Malfoy, and…I…."

"You what?" Hermione looked a bit puzzled, perhaps trying to think of what Snape would want hidden from Harry.

"I looked."

"What did you see?" Ron asked.  "Must be something to do with You-Know-Who, right?  I've never trusted that guy!"  Hermione groaned again, muttering the same thing she always had about Dumbledore's trust in Snape meant everything.

"No, Hermione's right.  It's nothing like that.  I just can't tell you," Harry replied, his eyes shut again.

"He caught you then, I take it?" Hermione pieced together, imagining Snape beating Harry's head against the Pensieve repeatedly.  She looked almost predatory, yet cringing all the same.  "Did he hurt you, Harry?!"

"No, not really," Harry's mouth twisted to an odd, uncomfortable shape.  "I swore I'd never repeat what I saw, and I can't.  Even if it's Snape…it's just…I…"

"What?  What do you mean 'not really'?"

"What, Harry?"

"I can't even explain it.  I wish I could tell you, but I can't.  I'm sorry, I really am.  I have never seen Snape as angry and twisted as that…ever," he sighed almost hopelessly.  "I'm sorry."

Hermione looked as though she would burst into tears.  Hugging him again, she said, "It's okay.  We understand you can't tell us everything, but if you ever change your mind, we'll listen."  She paused for a moment, lying back down on the grass.  "What are you going to do tomorrow, then?  With the meeting, I mean?"

"How did you kn—" Harry began.

"I read a couple pieces of torn parchment that fell onto the floor.  I assumed it was Snape.  I just…didn't say anything, considering."

"I don't know what I'm going to do.  I should apologize, but with all the hate between us, I don't think he'd find it sincere.  No, I _know_ he wouldn't find it sincere.  I think I'll go and tell him I'll be fine without Occlumency lessons, still apologize, and then leave.  I don't want to be there any more than I have to.  The way I see it, the quicker I get through it, the better, right?"

Silence overtook the three again, and they remained together on the grass, side-by-side.  Hermione eventually fell asleep against Harry's side, but he and Ron continued talking.

"Do you know what you want to be yet?  You know, after Hogwarts?" Ron asked, and rolling his eyes at Hermione, grinned,  "Sleep is for the weak."

"I'm really not sure at this point.  Maybe an Auror, but don't they need high marks in Potions?"

"Who knows…though I'm sure McGonagall will help us.  Umbridge is about as useful as a doornail."

"Well said," Harry laughed.  "What about you?  Have you given it much thought?"

"I dunno, really.  I'd like to be in touch with you and Hermione still.  I wonder if we could all be Aurors?"

"I don't know if Hermione would go for that, but maybe…"  

Several moments passed as the two trailed off into their own thoughts.  Harry glanced over at Ron who had since fallen asleep, then at Hermione who hadn't moved in hours.  He gently moved her and stood up, walking over to the lake.  He skimmed his right foot on its cool surface, deep in thought.  In a little while he'd be back at Snape's office.  The thought made his stomach roll over, but not as deeply as it would have a few hours ago.  He smiled over at his friends, sitting down against the tree.  _They really did help_, he admitted to himself.

The tree's coarse surface was hard on his tender back, but he didn't seem to mind it.  He envisioned himself as Professor Lupin, leaned back reading a book, casually noting his father's immaturity once in awhile.  Closing his eyes, he could still see Snape's memory, clear as day.  He could see his father showing off with a stolen Snitch, purposefully making his hair untidy…always grasping for attention everywhere.  He couldn't help but feel almost disgraced, but to his own dismay.

He felt ill, picturing Snape upside down, soap bubbles pouring from his mouth, underwear in full view, if not worse.  Rubbing his temples fervently, he tried not to think of himself as Snape and his father, Dudley.  The similarities were more than noticeable, though.  

"Dammit!" Harry growled aloud, throwing a rock into the lake.  He put his face in his hands, trying to make the visions disappear.  "You're such a prat!" he hissed to the sky.  "I'm suffering for your mistakes, you know?"

Had his father been alive, would he have been raised with the same cockiness?  Everyone, _everyone_ had always said what a wonderful person the famous James Potter had been, but what Harry could see just…wasn't.  His mother, though… what about his mother?  He held more in common with his mother than his father, right?

Harry leaned down onto his knees, sighing softly.  He had put enough thought into his family dilemma for one night.  A short nap before breakfast seemed to be in order.  He closed his eyes and concentrated on sleeping.  Listening to his own deep breathing, he started to nod off…he was playing Quidditch again, flying free…now, he was eating a feast…Dumbledore was there…things appeared to be normal…everyone was feasting…all the professors…Snape…then….

_THUD!_  Harry jolted awake.  As almost by instinct, he jumped up, his heart banging painfully against his chest.  _What was that?_ he thought to himself, peering left and right.

Them, Harry's first reasonable thought hit him: What if Umbridge had awoken early and set off to patrol the grounds?  Harry rushed over to Ron and Hermione, but neither woke under Harry's quiet pleading.  Exasperated, he threw the cloak over them and ran up towards the castle.  He tiptoed as close as he dared, then leaned his back against the back wall.

He could hear heavy breathing…very cracked, shaken…?  Harry's eyes narrowed curiously, unsure if he wanted to see or not….

It was Snape, crumpled directly in front of the heavy doors.  His robes were severely wrinkled, hair completely wild.  Harry could see dried blood streaked down his arm…left arm!  Hearing Snape's shallow breathing turn to a painful wheeze, Harry knew he would stand up soon and head inside.  

Shaking, Harry ran off in the opposite direction.  He couldn't go inside, but he felt too vulnerable outside!  Logical thoughts were trying to pierce his brain, but his mind wouldn't compute them.

One thing he did know…whatever happened to his Potions Master overnight was _not_ something Harry had been meant to see.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** Thanks to all who reviewed!  Steve, thanks for your e-mail.  If you find out more info on uploading, please toss me an e-mail.  ^_^;  'Till then, I do apologize if the formatting is a bit messed up.  I may plan on uploading Chapters 5 & 6 together, so the next update may take a few extra days.

Chapter 4

"Harry!  What in the devil d'yeh think yer doin' out here on yer own this early?"__

Harry's eyes snapped open, immediately causing his hand to shield his gaze from the bright, morning sun.  "Huh?" he mumbled incoherently through squinted eyes.  "Hagrid?"

His eyes finally focused as the giant man stepped over him, pulling him to his feet.  He must have fallen asleep waiting for daybreak.  "I was…er…"

"Never mind.  Are yeh okay?" Hagrid asked with a bit of skepticism in his eye.  

"Yeah," Harry replied dully.  "What time is it?"

"A bit past seven.  Early for yeh on the weekend, innit?  Most everyone else is still sleepin', I gather."

"I just needed a bit of fresh air, that's all..."

"I get yeh, I get yeh.  Just keep yer nose clean, okay?  I don't want you snoopin' 'round where yeh don' belong," Hagrid said as Harry nodded.  "I better be goin'…lots ta do today.  See yeh 'round, Harry!"

"Take care," Harry said, and Hagrid barreled over the grounds to his hut.  Harry was curious as to why Hagrid hadn't been more inquisitive, but shrugged it off.  _Preoccupied, as always…_

Harry sighed, running his hands up and down his bare arms.  He couldn't remember falling asleep, though now it was irrelevant.  He stretched and made his way over to Ron and Hermione.  Remembering their reluctance to wake a couple hours ago, he kicked the invisible lump on the ground rather harshly.

"Ow!" they chided angrily as Harry tugged the cloak off.

"About time!" Harry snapped.  "I thought I'd have to set my wand under the pair of your behinds!"

"What time is it?" groaned Hermione, rubbing her eyes.  Ron blinked fervently under the sun's brightness. 

"Time for breakfast, that's what time it is," Ron grinned.  "Sorry about falling asleep on you, mate."

"I'm sorry, too.  I don't even remember when I stopped talking," Hermione said, noting the shared amusement between the two boys.  "What?  Was I snoring or something?"

"Nothing…let's go.  I just spoke with Hagrid for a bit and he said not too many people are up and going.  We should get back up to the common room and get dressed.  I don't know if roaming around in your pajamas is against Umbridge's rules or not," Harry said sarcastically as Hermione wrapped the cloak around them.  They seriously doubted they were (currently) breaking a school rule, but all the same they thought best not to find out.

Upon crawling back into their common room they met Ginny sitting by the fireplace in her Quidditch robes.  Ron pulled the cloak off and sighed.  "Again?"

"Why else would I be up this early?" Ginny yawned.  "'Morning, everyone!"

"'Morning," replied Harry and Hermione, yawning in unison.

"Well, I guess I'll see you two later," Ron said, turning to them.  "I forgot about practice, not that it'll do me any good."  His face flushed deep red as he rushed off to get his robes.

"We'll see you later, Ginny.  Good luck at practice!" Hermione said as Harry nodded in agreement.  They walked up the staircase and turned, ambling off in opposite directions.  "Meet you for breakfast in a bit, Harry!"

Harry reached his school trunk and pulled out some daywear.  Sighing, he said aloud, "Ron, stop worrying so much.  You do fine during practice; it's just when the real game starts it gets a bit scary.  Trust me, I know."

"Yeah, yeah," Ron muttered, pausing to pull on his Quidditch gloves.  "I'll see you later, but hopefully before lunch!"

"'Bye, Ron," Harry said, hauling a t-shirt over his head.  As Ron left the room, Harry took note that all the other boys were still sleeping.  For a moment he wondered how they could possibly sleep so long, then it dawned on him he had only napped an hour or two at most.  Time became an eerie thing with no sleep.

He hadn't bothered telling Ron or Hermione about Snape's condition last night, though he wasn't sure why.  Harry realized he wasn't even sure if it was a dream or not.  All his other dreams were very realistic, so why was this any different?  Though, why had he woken on the ground and not near the tree?

Dressing his feet, he yawned deeply, his stomach growling uncomfortably.  He pondered for a moment, trying to remember the last time he had eaten a decent-sized meal, but came up with nothing.  Eggs, bacon, hash, toast, frosted pumpkin juice…they all sounded very good to him right now.  He stumbled back down to the common room and sat down, waiting for Hermione.  

He tapped his index finger on the tip of his knee repeatedly, looking around the room.  The events of last night seemed surreal.  He noticed their books were still sprawled out about the room, so he gathered them and piled them neatly on a corner of the table.

Just as Harry's stomach let out another impatient wail, Hermione finally surfaced and stomped down the stairs.  "Sorry about that, Harry.  I found a big hole in the pocket of my robe so I tried fixing it with a couple of spells."

"Is it fixed now?" Harry asked, feeling his own pocket for his wand.

"No," she frowned.  "Though I suppose it doesn't matter.  We don't have class today anyway.  I'll work on it tonight.  How about some breakfast?  I'm starving."

"You read my mind," Harry said.  "Let's go."

Harry helped himself to a heaping plate of eggs, bacon, and toast, just as his mind had settled on in the common room.  He would have taken the hash as well, but apparently it wasn't on the menu.  He crammed his mouth full in a very unattractive manor, and within moments, had a bowl of porridge going, too.

Hermione poked her head up from the Daily Prophet and smiled.  "It's nice to see you happy again, for once.  Try the crumpets, too!  This morning's batch came out very nicely.  They go quite well with the porridge, actually."

"I don't know what's into me this morning," Harry said, taking his friend's advice and buttering a fresh crumpet.  "I guess I'm making up for lost meals."

"You're going to get a rather large stomachache, is what you're doing," she replied, glaring up at Professor Umbridge stuffing her toad-like face and the faculty table.  "Honestly… why her of all people?"  She glanced back to Harry, who was spooning porridge with one hand and eating his second crumpet with another.  "Harry!  You're putting her to shame, you know."

Harry took a deep drink from his goblet full of pumpkin juice and sighed, eyes moving up to the faculty table briefly.  He hesitated for a moment then said, "I wonder if I'll be able to play next year?  You don't suppose this Quidditch ban is _really_ permanent, do you?"

"I'm not sure, Harry…. I'm really not," Hermione said anxiously.  "Do you think Umbridge will be here next year?"

"If she is, d'you think we could take Ron and transfer schools or something?" he murmured, smirking behind his new crumpet.

He looked over his shoulder then whispered, "But seriously, do you think Dumbledore would disappear for good?  All the teachers know Umbridge is no good.  Hogwarts can't stay like this forever, can it?"

Hermione finished her single bowl of porridge, wiped her mouth on a napkin, and then stood up.  "Dumbledore loves his students," she said, not bothering to lower her voice, her eyes fixated on Umbridge.  "He _will_ be back.  He's never let us down yet, and I don't think he ever will."

Harry smiled, took one last swig of juice, and stood up from his seat as well.  "Want to go watch Ron practice?"

"If you're done, we should take him some juice and toast.  He's probably really hungry.  I doubt Ginny let him get anything on the way down."

Harry nodded and grabbed a couple juice goblets as Hermione quickly lathered a stack toast with butter and jam.  "Let's go."

Before they left the Great Hall, Harry couldn't help but notice Snape's absence at the faculty table.  He scratched his head thoughtfully, but then decided to simply shove it aside.  _It was a dream, Harry.  What are you worried about anyway?_

"Hey, Hermione?" Harry said as they sat down on the grassy Quidditch pitch.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for last night."

"You'd do it in a flash for Ron and me.  There's no need for thanks.  I just wish we could do more."

Harry smiled and looked up as Ron blocked a goal from flying in.  "Good save!" he yelled as Hermione cheered.  Ron blushed deeply, but a deep grin was plastered across his mouth.

"Five-minute break, then we'll start letting Ginny practice with the Snitch."  Angelina called to the group as they descended down to the ground.

Ron and Ginny ran over to Harry and Hermione, plopping down beside them.  Hermione handed them both toast and pumpkin juice, of which they gratefully accepted.

"Thanks!" Ron said, drinking deeply.  "Ginny wouldn't let me get anything on the way out."

"That's what we figured," Harry winked.

"Angelina's really turned mean, though.  Her new rule is, 'If anybody's late for practice from now on, each minute is another hour before we can all leave!'" Ginny said, mocking the Quidditch captain's voice.  "I know she's only doing it so we'll improve, but it's still a bit frustrating.  We'll give it our best, but it's just not the same without Harry, Fred, and George."

"Once that fat toad is out of the school, Harry'll play again," Ron said as they all nodded.  They were counting down the days for something to happen against Umbridge, though so far it seemed hopeless.

"Well, thanks for the juice and toast, guys," Ginny said, standing up and brushing leftover crumbs from her robes.  "See you later!"  And with that, she mounted her broom and was in the air again.

"Last night was fun, but I'm drained," Ron groaned.  "I can't wait for lunch.  Think we can skip studying tonight?" he added with a pleading glance to Hermione.

"You don't see me complaining, do you?" Hermione replied haughtily.

"You're not the one up there playing Quidditch, are you?  Besides, you fell asleep hours before Harry and me!"

"Hurry up and get back on your broom before Angelina throws a fit," Hermione smirked, motioning with her hand for him to leave.  "We'll wait for you."

"We'll study on Sunday instead.  I'll talk her into it.  Just go practice before we end up having to skip lunch!" Harry urged impatiently as Ron finally saddled his broomstick grudgingly and flew off.

            "I don't know about him, even after five years…" Hermione murmured under her breath.

            "Changing the subject," Harry laughed, "I think Ron would make a really good Keeper if he could just block out the Slytherins."

            "Why does Malfoy say such stupid things?  Does he really have nothing better to do in life than terrorize others?" Hermione spat, her eyes still on Ron.

            "I'm sure he has his reasons…we all do," Harry quietly replied.

            "It still doesn't excuse—"

            "I didn't say it did, did I?"

            "I suppose you're right…"

            "Anyway…_can_ we wait until Sunday to study?"

            "I don't want to wait," Hermione said, shifting her eyes away from Harry.  Slowly, she placed her fingers together, in-taking a deep breath.  "I…don't want you to be alone." She peered over at Harry, quickly adding, "Er…not that you can't take care of yourself and all!  It's just…I'd rather Ron and I wait up for you…just incase.  Oh, Harry, please don't be upset with me.  I know you hate it when I constantly worry, but I don't want you dealing with this alone!  You don't have to tell us anything, jus—"

            "It's fine, Hermione," Harry interjected.  "I'm not saying I like the idea of you and Ron being my babysitters," Hermione's mouth opened in protest, "_but_…it's not like I can stop you."

            Neither said anything for a while, but instead concentrated their sights on the Quidditch practice.  Ginny was diving after the Snitch while Ron and others aimed Bludgers to throw her off course.  She gracefully ducked over and under the zooming black balls, soon grasping the golden Snitch tightly in her hands.

            Harry smiled, but couldn't help feeling a slight gnawing in the pit of his stomach.  "Do you think—"

            "Of course not.  She's good, but not as good as you are.  Ginny doesn't like playing Seeker that much.  She's just filling in for you…you know that."

            "I'm sorry…I guess that was pretty stupid, huh?"

            Hermione said nothing, but smiled faintly.  Harry leaned back, glancing over as Ginny caught the Snitch again.

Anxiety was slowly sweeping over Harry as the clouds set in.  Before he knew it, he, Ron, and Hermione were sitting in the Great Hall for dinner.  Plates were heaped with tender roast-beef, mashed potatoes, stew, corn on the cob, salad, rolls, and many other goodies, but it all seemed inedible to Harry.  His roast tasted like freshly processed cotton, and he couldn't bear trying the rolls.  He instead sipped his pumpkin juice and observed the room.

            Most everyone was deep into conversation with one another.  Harry couldn't help notice that even Malfoy was chattering quickly amongst the Slytherins.  He took another sip of juice, set down his goblet, and exhaled deeply.

            "I'm going to go up to the common room and get my wand," he said, finally bringing his glance to Snape's seat at the staff table.

            "I thought your wand was in your pocket?" Hermione asked, swallowing another bite of roast.

            "I need to go clear my head before heading down," Harry replied, locking eyes with Snape's.  His haunting black voids burrowed through Harry with pure distaste.  "I don't want to be late, now do I?"


	5. Author's Note

Augh... I'm sorry to everyone who has reviewed and e-mailed me regarding this fan-fic.   
  
I've had 75% of Chapter 5 done now for ages but I rather lost my writing muse.  
  
I'm going to end up giving this whole story an overhaul eventually. Expect something up in the next 3-4 weeks, the latest. I AM working on it. When I upload it, it will be completed. 


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